


the art of navigating love languages (and your heart)

by hubristic



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Kissing, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, all 21 kind of make an appearance, also there are some background relationships, but there's not enough content of them to put them as separate tags lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubristic/pseuds/hubristic
Summary: mark calls bullshit.mark tried. he really did, but apparently for all the avoidance and dodging he’s done in his life - from hyuck's neck kisses, jungwoo’s hugs, his responsibilities - his skills are apparently still shit.he wonders where in his life he went and did something so wrong as to deserve whatever the fuck is unfolding in front of him. he's 84.76% sure that nothing came close to calling for a rosy cheeked donghyuck with hair matted to his forehead sitting at his feet, cozy between his legs; maybe the time he let his brother’s rabbit loose when he was nine. but he stands by the argument that it was justified becausehe's allergic, and it's not psychological, screw you samuel.he can't think of a single moment.so yeah.bullshit.





	the art of navigating love languages (and your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to another episode of "the author uses too many italics"

mark calls bullshit. 

mark tried. he really did, but apparently for all the avoidance and dodging he’s done in his life - from hyuck's neck kisses, jungwoo’s hugs, his responsibilities - his skills are apparently still shit. 

he wonders where in his life he went and did something so wrong as to deserve whatever the fuck is unfolding in front of him. he's 84.76% sure that nothing came close to calling for a rosy cheeked donghyuck with hair matted to his forehead sitting at his feet, cozy between his legs; maybe the time he let his brother’s rabbit loose when he was nine. but he stands by the argument that it was justified because he's  _ allergic, and it's  _ not  _ psychological, screw you.   _

he can't think of a single moment.

so yeah. 

bullshit. 

donghyuck presses the side of his face against the inner part of mark’s thigh, and mark’s brain decides to shut down. mark feels himself let out a shaky breath in response to the warm puffs of air that donghyuck lets out along the side of his thigh. 

mark watches as his eyes flutter shut and every remaining coherent thought he was barely capable of producing to begin with goes to shit. 

“get off,” he says, albeit weakly. donghyuck makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat before nuzzling closer.  _ well fuck. _

“mm.” donghyuck’s eyes squint open, finding mark's face through his eyelashes. mark repeats himself, his voice shaking. “this is my spot. 's mine. 'sides, if you really wanted me off, you’d’ve pushed me.” he pauses, as if to think. his nose crinkles. “like you usually do.” he pushes his cheek against mark, sending heat pulsing in mark’s veins.

maybe. maybe mark doesn't mind donghyuck’s tactility as much as he makes it seem. and maybe there’s something inside of him that lights up every time donghyuck reaches for his hand, almost subconsciously, when they stand together. and maybe he finds himself wishing he'd let a kiss be pressed to the side of his neck. and maybe he wants to let donghyuck’s arms linger a little too long around his waist. but only maybe. if he ever let it happen, he wouldn't be able cut himself off before it became too much and with donghyuck, there's always the danger of too much. too much indulgence. so he pushes, he pushes him away every single time. 

but this. this is something else. god, if someone had told him that a slightly more than tipsy donghyuck was so pliant and soft, all sharp lines and sarcasm melting away against the inside of his thigh, he - he doesn't know what he would've done. because this donghyuck, the one running his nose along the sensitive skin just past his knee, the one thats looking at him as if the entire world starts and ends with mark, is the most alluring thing he's ever seen. but the fact that it's still just donghyuck - his donghyuck - who’s so entrancing is so, undeniably,  _ terrifying.  _

he's letting himself get a taste of the warmth that emits from donghyuck’s very core, and the way he feels like he could drown in it, everything donghyuck, and be okay with it, is  _ terrifying.  _

he needs him off. 

now.

“hyuck,” he says, way too breathless for someone who's been sitting on the couch for the majority of the day. if donghyuck notices, there's no comment. he half-heartedly nudges donghyuck’s shoulder with his knee. somehow, one of mark’s feet has gotten hooked behind donghyuck’s ass with the other one in the crook between the carpet and donghyuck’s tanned thigh. donghyuck’s legs are splayed in an awkward tangle in front of him, squeezed between his torso and the couch, and yet there's no sign of discomfort. instead, a soft, tired smile ghosts over his lips and mark’s tempted to cradle the boy between his legs just a bit longer.

but any of their roommates can walk in at any moment. they’ve stolen to the loft, the party dongyoung decided to throw constrained to the lower level, the threat coming from dongyoung’s glare enough to keep people from wandering. for the most part. he doesn’t know how late into the night it is; dongyoung might have wandered off with taeyong already, as he inevitably does at every party. mark had hidden in the loft before the party even started. anyone can walk in and what if they think something is  _ happening, oh fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckufck - _

mark nudges him with a little more strength - once, twice - causing donghyuck’s lips to part in a groan. “fine, fine.” he sets his hands on either of mark’s calves and gently pushes them away from his sides. he unfurls and stretches his arms towards the ceiling. something in mark's stomach flips.

he holds his hands up to mark, who rolls his eyes. mark tugs him to his feet and it's a little awkward because donghyuck’s feet are so close to the couch, and his knees knock against the stiff cushion of the loveseat. he steadies himself on mark's shoulders. despite the hands weighing down on him, he feels absolutely weightless as donghyuck plants his knees at his sides and swoops down just enough that his hair tickles mark's forehead. every cell in his body screams at him to grab the waist in front of him. he does. 

“hey,” donghyuck whispers. 

mark fits his palms against his hips.

donghyuck's hands slide up to mark’s neck. 

mark doesn’t move. 

donghyuck presses his forehead against mark's. 

mark doesn’t breathe,  _ can’t breathe. _

donghyuck’s thumbs gently rub over the tender skin just below the junctures of his jaw. 

all too suddenly, it’s too much. he has a lap-full of donghyuck who’s gazing down at him as if he’s the panacea for all the wrong in the world and then some. donghyuck’s breath laced with soju caresses his cheeks, and warmth from donghyuck’s thighs seeps through his jeans, the skin at every point of contact simply  _ burning.  _

his chest constricts in a way that leaves him gasping for air. one second donghyuck’s eyes are flickering to his lips, the next he finds himself standing. somewhere in between, donghyuck has crumpled to the ground. 

donghyuck’s face is the perfect picture of  _ what the fuck have i done. _ he knows his boundaries. he knows just how far he can push everyone, just how far he can go. 

but right now his mind isn't as sharp and his thoughts are muddled, and it's beyond donghyuck's drunken grasp when, even sober, sometimes he only has to look at mark and everything seems to freeze and still around them. he's incapable of not wanting. drunk or sober. but he knows mark's limits. drunk or sober.

mark winces as he steps over donghyuck’s legs in an effort to escape to the door. he doesn't know how to deal with the boy curled into himself on the carpeted floor. he doesn't look back because he can't trust his heart to not absolutely break. he pushes - he never seems to be able to hold donghyuck as close as he wants, as close as he, himself needs. 

he doesn't know what to do, so he does what he knows how to do best. he pushes. 

“i should go.”

“okay.”

“drink some water, get some rest.”

“okay.”

“i’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

he doesn't wait for donghyuck to answer.

**marker**

can you make sure donghyuck stays safe? he's in the loft

he’s had a lot to drink 

**jeffery**

yeah ofc bro

anything for my favorite foreigeiign swagger

donghyuck never makes it to their room that night.

/

in the morning donghyuck waddles into the kitchen with a blanket around his shoulders and he goes to grab the bowl of cereal mark always leaves out for him because he likes his cereal soggy but hates waiting. 

it isn't there. mark sees the moment it registers and donghyuck blinks the bleariness from his eyes and spins around. mark ignores him. he trains his eyes on his shitty eggs that he over salted and overcooked and he pretends he doesn't notice donghyuck leaving the kitchen without grabbing anything to eat. 

mark knows that if he wanted to pretend nothing happened he could've but at the same time he  _ couldn't  _ when he wanted to _.  _ there was something that came with donghyuck that scared him and he didn't like that. he didn't like how donghyuck made - makes - him feel warm and  _ makes _ him want in a way that’s  _ different,  _ in a way that it feels like it has been lying dormant in the marrow of his bones.

he feels lost and confused and usually when he's unsure of himself he goes to donghyuck. because donghyuck is his safe place. usually. until now. 

he feels like crying (he won't. he doesn’t deserve to).

he knows that it’s okay that he didn’t kiss donghyuck, if he didn’t  _ want  _ to kiss him. but he did, and still he knows that hes allowed to want to kiss him and not do it. but something feels out of place. mark wanted to kiss him, and donghyuck was right  _ there  _ and it was scary, but it wasn’t even donghyuck he was scared of. he was -  _ is  _ \- scared of himself.

he’s scared of himself and how he’s feeling because he  _ doesn’t want to feel that way  _ and _ doesn’t know how to stop _ . and yet, he isn’t a stranger to loving donghyuck.

but donghyuck is his best friend. he can’t lose that. he can’t lose all the years of familiarity and comfort to some stupid  _ feelings _ . 

his brain unhelpfully reminds him that it was donghyuck who tried to kiss him first.

then his brain redeems itself by reminding him that donghyuck was drunk and once upon a time, a drunk donghyuck had kissed yukhei. it doesn’t mean anything. he isn’t special.

/

he doesn’t make it a day without donghyuck. 

he can’t make it a day without donghyuck.

_ pathetic. _

it’s late afternoon by the time he steps out of his room again. he doesn’t know where anyone is, but if past parties are anything to go by, they’re all nursing their hangovers in their rooms.

mark is willing to bet that donghyuck hasn't left his seat on the couch all day because the usual muffled drag of his feet to and from the kitchen isn't heard.  the likelihood of him leaving the apartment on a sunday are normally close to zero, and considering how much he drank last might it's immediately ruled out. 

he ventures out to the sitting area where his suspicions are confirmed in the shape of a lump of blankets on the couch that has a tiny space at the top where the edges of donghyuck profile is exposed. his eyes. his nose. his mouth - his lips (that he doesn’t want to kiss). 

and mark. well, mark is in no hurry. 

he admires the dainty slope of his nose and the way his lips are parted ever so slightly. he pokes his tongue out to wet his own. donghyuck’s hair is splayed across his forehead, too hazardly to be considered the styled mop he tries so hard to get it to be every morning. and mark has watched, seen, donghyuck enough that he can picture (and definitely  _ does not want to kiss _ ) the moles scattered across his skin, along the tan expanse of his neck, jaw, and cheeks. 

when donghyuck turns his head to look at him, only then can mark see the asymmetrical features of his face, the way one eye droops a little farther than the other and he’s reminded of the way the left side of his face tugs his smile just a little wider than the right. beautiful.

“hey.”

“hi.”

mark doesn’t know how to continue - what to say, and then -

“i’m watching memories of the alhambra without you,” donghyuck offers.

mark grabs onto it. “am i supposed to be surprised? this is why we can never watch shows together.”

and just like that, they agree to never speak about last night.

/

donghyuck won’t touch mark.

it’s the way he communicates, it’s the way he loves others. tactility is his love language, and mark could've have told him that better than any buzzfeed quiz.

he’s stopped.

mark didn’t realize just how much donghyuck clung to him until he suddenly didn’t. the realization hit him as if he was running head first into a brick wall. harshly. bone-breaking.

they watch movies together again, but donghyuck doesn’t glue himself to his side and curls into the other corner of the couch. donghyuck is back to sleeping in their room, but he sleeps in his own bed instead of in mark’s arms. they walk together and sit next to each other during lunch, while shopping, in the house, during classes. they’re in each other’s company  _ constantly. _ only making it that much more obvious. 

mark finds himself missing the way donghyuck would reach for his hand on instinct, regardless of whether or not mark took it previously or ripped it away, but just because he wanted to - expecting nothing in return.

there’s a level of intimacy in donghyuck's tactility that mark feared sometimes, but now he resents himself for all the times he took it for granted, assuming it would always be there, that donghyuck would always be there. 

donghyuck hovers. he hovers at the edges of mark’s personal space - close enough that mark knows he's there, knows that if he shifts a few centimeters donghyuck will be there, enough that if he was anyone else it would seem as if they were them normal selves. but they're not. donghyuck remains far enough that the space between them makes a point. it's cavernous. 

donghyuck still jumps on renjun’s back. he tackles sicheng and kisses jeno’s forehead. he wraps johnny’s arms around himself and sits on taeyong’s lap. he notes how in most circumstances, he’d be in their places. 

but he doesn’t notice until the third day after sunday. donghyuck pads into the kitchen, and smiles at jaehyun when he sees taeyong asleep against his shoulder. mark’s eyes follow him as he weaves in between the hustle and bustle in the kitchen. he sits on top of the counter, next to where dongyoung is spooning an ungodly amount of sugar into his coffee - because he's finally over that phase of trying to convince everyone that he takes his coffee black and now takes it as if he's trying to develop diabetes within the next two weeks - who backs into the space between donghyuck's legs. yuta is probably still sleeping.

and mark feels left out. it takes him a moment to realize what he's missing, what he's lost. 

donghyuck. 

a donghyuck with swollen eyes trying to blink the sleep that refuses to let him go, away. with an oversized shirt slipping at the collar and too long at the cuffs, grabbing his hands and wrapping himself in mark's arms. marks heart aches with a tenderness he wishes he didn't feel when he thinks of donghyuck curling into him. sometimes he wants to curl into donghyuck. but that's for another day. 

donghyuck shoving him after mark teases him. donghyuck pinching his cheeks before mark can swat him away. donghyuck pressing his ice cold feet to his thighs. donghyuck smacking his ass when he gets up.

and:

donghyuck's fingers slipping between the spaces of his. donghyuck trying to press kisses to his cheeks, to his neck. donghyuck's breath against his collarbones. donghyuck climbing into his lap. donghyuck's fingers running through his hair. donghyuck leaning his head against his shoulder.  _ donghyuck. _

/

“jesus, jaemin. why don’t you get some light in here -” his hand hovers over the light switch but jaemin’s voice stops him.

jaemin stumbles through his darkened apartment to the sofa, tripping over an abandoned pizza box on his way. “mark, i swear to god that if you even  _ look  _ in the direction of that light switch i  _ will  _ cut your children off of your body and eat your patellas.” he wraps a blanket over his shoulders and readjusts his sunglasses before staring straight at the blank television.

mark leaves the light alone.

“what’s with the sunglasses?”

jaemin sighs. “you  _ know _ light bothers me when i’m hungover. keep up karen. "

mark pauses from inspecting the pile of clothing on the loveseat that he’s like, 43.93% sure he saw move. at this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if jaemin, jeno, and renjun somehow managed to somehow spawn a new species of creature, created from the pure  _ filth  _ of their apartment. he’s pretty sure that the only reason it’s gotten so bad is because renjun realized that jaemin and jeno were hopeless cases when it came to cleaning and gave up. renjun never spends time in their apartment if he can help it. mark sometimes considers asking renjun just to move into the house. it already houses six other boys, what’s one more?

“why are you hungover? it’s wednesday.”

“i have  _ reserved the right _ .” he sniffs, turning his face upwards, his nose pointing up defiantly. “also jeno got into the lax bros stash. and i failed my bio test that my entire grade was riding on and so i’m pretty sure i’m getting rejected from that stupid program i applied for, you know, the one that’s in like, london or whatever, under those super cool genetic engineers who are literally doing what i’ve dreamed about since i was negative two years old. but that’s beside the point, who cares, we are moving on, just like jeno did four days after we broke up.” 

mark says, “okay, uh, there’s a lot to unpack there. which we  _ will  _ be doing when you are not still drunk. so uh, i’ll come back later, if that’s best -”

“no!” jaemin says. “stay. sit. what’s bothering  _ you _ , not me, because i’m never bothered. unbothered, if i do say so myself. please continue.”

mark assumes it’s better to just get this over with. jaemin is one of the only people he can trust with this, whether he’s drunk or not. if there's one thing he can count on, it's that jaemin will always be jaemin. as simple as it is, it's the most important thing about him. “donghyuck tried to kiss me.”  _ i wanted him to _ is what he doesn't say. 

jaemin lowers his sunglasses, slipping them down to the ball of his nose. "donghyuck  _ what _ ?"

the longer he talks, the harder it is to stop.

"- and we're acting as if nothing ever happened but we're also  _ not _ , because we talk but he doesn't -" mark flushes, "- he doesn't  _ touch  _ me and i  _ miss  _ that. i miss  _ him _ but i shouldn't because he's right there and i'm the one who chose to like, be like this, i guess."

jaemin sighs before saying, "that's… a lot. but, you know, you're allowed to miss him. deny yourself of him, sure, but don't deny yourself of your feelings, yeah?"

neither of them talk about how  _ i miss him _ sounds an awful lot like  _ i love him _ .

/

donghyuck carries the basket in front of him, both hands grasping the handles while he bumps it with his knees and hums the bts song playing over the speakers of the grocery store under his breath. 

"well?" mark prods as he walks back from the end of the aisle. "did you choose?"

"nope."

mark glares at him, and donghyuck widens his eyes. "ay, you're the one who couldn't even  _ try  _ to choose." he turns back to the large freezer. "i narrowed our choices down to three but then i saw another brand and it went up to five again."

"okay so what are our choices?" mark says. 

donghyuck blows a raspberry from between his lips. "mocha, mint chocolate chip, pistachio, triple chocolate, and cookie dough." he starts swinging the basket and hitting it against his knees again.

"i don't like mocha and cookie dough. or pistachio." 

donghyuck sniffs. "well i've decided that i want pistachio," donghyuck says, a bit too smugly.

mark rolls his eyes. "you just said that because i don't want it." 

donghyuck pouts, and mark chooses to ignore how soft he looks with mused hair and plush, rosy cheeks burned from the cold wind. “that’s not true.”

he opens the freezer, saving donghyuck’s already chilled fingertips the cold trip of grabbing both the mint chocolate chip and pistachio ice creams. “both?”

donghyuck holds up the basket with a grin. mark places the ice cream containers at the opposing ends because there have been enough times where he hasn't, and donghyuck bugs him about the laws of equilibrium until he fixes it anyway that he's learned. 

"is there anything else we need?" mark asks.

donghyuck shakes his head. "no," he says, "i just wanted ice cream."

they pay (mark pays - as donghyuck fumbles with his wallet and coins drop to the ground that he swears at as if they chose to fall on their own. mark slips his debit card to the cashier who seems all too enamored by the situation. donghyuck gasps, standing upright as he hears the sound of the receipt being printed). donghyuck remains upset that  _ he _ didn't actually get to pay for the ice cream that he wanted. 

donghyuck is still whining about it as they walk out of the store. they wait for the congestion to move out of the small parking lot, not really having any place to be, except with each other. "i didn't want to  _ impose  _ and i made us get two. i feel so  _ guilty _ -"

"you didn't because i volunteered -"

"you have  _ bills to pay _ -" 

"and so do you. and if it makes you feel any better, you can pay next time," mark says. 

he knows that donghyuck can't stay mad, and  _ won't  _ stay mad, as he nods and shuffles on the balls of his feet. his fists are loosely clenched into fists.  _ i want to hold his hand.  _

huh. 

maybe it's because mark feels the first bit of heat he's felt since winter started deep in his core, untouched and uncaused by the sun, or maybe it's the couple's laughter from inside of a passing car that makes the longing in mark's chest for  _ something like that  _ increase by thirteen and a half times over, or maybe it's just donghyuck (it's always been donghyuck) but -

instead of pushing, instead of thinking, mark caves. 

he grabs donghyuck's free hand. 

donghyuck looks to him with wide eyes. childlike innocence. confusion. 

mark doesn't really know what he's doing and if he starts to think about it he'll lose the war with his thoughts - which he doesn't want to do because while he trusts his mind he can never seem to agree with it - so he continues rubbing small circles into donghyuck's thumb with his own until his hand begins to fall open. he rubs circles into his palm. donghyuck shivers. 

as the last car passes, he laces his fingers through donghyuck's and he crosses the street, tugging on donghyuck softly to get him moving from where he'd frozen on the sidewalk. 

the sky hasn't fallen, a tattoo that says  _ IM HALF IN LOVE WITH LEE DONGHYUCK  _ hasn't appeared on his forehead, and donghyuck.  _ donghyuck. _ donghyuck is looking at him as if he's the panacea for everything wrong in the world. maybe this is good. this is okay. donghyuck's hand is warm. 

donghyuck's eyes shift to their hands, but he seems to realize when they've gotten to the car when his fingers tighten around mark's.

"mark." his voice sounds strangled, choked. 

mark looks at donghyuck, who's face is open and pleading. "wait mark, i - mark - i don't wanna -" donghyuck's thumb runs along the length of his index finger. "i -"

he lets go. donghyuck's face crumples and he goes around to the passenger side of the car. 

mark gets in the car and looks at donghyuck. his knees are turned away and his head rests against the window. he doesn't look at mark as he sits, or as he starts the car. but his eyes slide shut and his lips part when mark grabs donghyuck's hand out of his lap, and holds his hand over the center console like the teenagers they were not too long ago, when mark would have never moved over the middle of the car, close to donghyuck. 

but they're not really teenagers anymore and haven't been for awhile, at least that's what their birth certificates say because mark feels as if he's just now,  _ finally _ getting it in a way that isn’t how a high schooler sees shit, and that in college as an adult it's not the end of the world if you want to hold your friend's hand. and mark realizes that it's going to take a lot more than holding hands, a lot more than a drunken almost-kiss, a lot more than  _ feelings  _ to push donghyuck far enough that he can't just reach over and hold his hand. 

/

mark sits at the table. he studies from the moment he gets home, until the sunlight fades and lampposts that line the streets flicker to life. the words on the page in front of him blur and run together and they stopped making sense a long time ago but he’s so close to slipping to a b+ that it doesn’t really matter to him at this point as long as the words are stored somewhere in his brain. 

donghyuck appears sporadically. donghyuck places a bottle of water for him at the corner of the desk, and he moves in and out of mark’s peripherals; there's a sigh, the click of the door, silence. mark is alone again. 

donghyuck comes in again when dusk is coming over the city and the sky is a multitude of pink, purple, and golden hues, and the sun has settled just above the line of buildings in the distance. he puts two warmed up slices of pizza, left over from two days ago where he had put the water bottle and places two of the gummy vitamins that he’s never let's anyone touch next to the plate. he flicks the light on as he leaves. mark only remembers to say thank you once he’s already slipped out the door. 

donghyuck comes back into the room. he undresses and wanders around in just his underwear like he does every night because he somehow manages to misplace his pajamas every day. mark stopped telling him to fold them every morning and let's donghyuck search for them on his own every night. he eventually makes it to bed and mark can feel every time he looks up from his phone to watch mark’s back. 

when the feeling stops, he assumes donghyuck has fallen asleep. 

  
  


a hand grabs his arm and he slowly sits up, peeling his dampened, sticky cheek from the textbook. “mark,” donghyuck coos softly. “mark get in bed.”

his head pounds, and the vein by his temple throbs violently in time with his heartbeat. he looks to donghyuck and rubs his eyes. donghyuck’s chin is the first thing he sees as he forces his eyes into focus. “what time is it?”

“about 3:30.”

mark blinks, and his eyes unfocus. “i didn’t - i didn't get through my notes.” he runs a hand over his scattered notes, disoriented.

donghyuck’s expression hardens in the slightest way possible, his eyebrows pulling inwards and his lips twitching downwards. “mark, at this point you’ve done all you can. what will help now is sleeping.” 

all mark can do is blink hard, once more. his thoughts are fuzzy. “okay.” he reaches up and presses his thumb to the space between donghyuck’s brows and frowns. “don’t do that. my mom says you’ll get wrinkles.”

donghyuck grabs into mark’s wrist as his hand slides down his face and his thumb trails over his eyelid and to the plush of his cheek. donghyuck’s fingers curl against mark’s shoulders. “come on,” he whispers.

mark plops on the bed, not quite asleep, yet not quite awake. “no mark,” donghyuck says. “get out of those clothes and put on your pjs.” 

“you just wanna see my ass,” mark says, without thinking, he can’t think. donghyuck snorts. 

mark drifts off as donghyuck looks through mark’s drawers for a clean t-shirt and shorts. “hey, come back canada.”

mark shakes his head, not opening his eyes. and donghyuck is so tender, handles him so tenderly, tender donghyuck, his tender donghyuck, sits him up and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. mark is nodding before he asks. “can i help you?” 

and in the yellow light of the lamp, donghyuck dresses mark. mark struggles with pulling his arms out of the shirt, but donghyuck gently, so gently, pushes mark’s elbows back and through for him. donghyuck holds his hand, traces his fingers over the sensitive, pale skin on the under part of his forearms,  _ gently  _ circles (his fingers are too short, they make three fourths of the way around)  mark’s elbow and guides him. 

donghyuck lifts it over his head. donghyuck’s knuckles skim the sides of his head as he holds the shirt open for mark to slip his head through. his fingertips have a featherlight touch, caressing. mark shivers. he guides mark’s arms into the shirt and back through the holes. “donghyuck.” 

“mark you have to do your pants, you have to get up,” donghyuck says. mark doesn’t object, and uses donghyuck’s shoulders to push himself up and balance as he pulls his jeans off foot by foot. he stumbles and donghyuck’s hands are back on him, around his ankles. 

mark falls back onto the bed and misses the fact that at some point donghyuck peeled back the covers. 

  
  


mark wakes up, not knowing whether or not the press of lips against his forehead was a dream or not. 

/ 

donghyuck is back to not touching him.

the next time they watch memories of the alhambra (which is later than it should be only because mark wanted them to start back where he last watched and donghyuck didn’t, and yet donghyuck didn’t want mark to watch without him) mark plants himself next to donghyuck, their sides pressed together from shoulder to thigh. 

donghyuck nearly jumps out of his skin. 

/ 

they sit across from each other in the booth at the diner. 

donghyuck is rambling about something - he’s not entirely sure because the red and blue neon lights are swimming around them and he can’t stop thinking about the way they shift across donghyuck as he moves. jeno something, jaemin something, jeno let out his inner hoe,  _ what  _ about bang chan?

mark taps the inside of donghyuck’s foot with his own and he falters, only for a moment.

for both of their sakes, mark pretends not to see donghyuck trying to hide his shy smile as he sips from his milkshake. 

/ 

donghyuck peaks around the door leading backstage and his eyes widen when he sees mark and company standing waiting for him. donghyuck is sweaty and ruddy and beaming.

their ragtag family, pulled and sewn together, tattered but beautiful, managed to tidy up (the group chat was a mess:

**2yang**

WHERE IS MY TIE

WHO STOLE IT

**ten**

you lost MY tie

**lucass**

lmao im wearing it

**jaehung**

omfg yangyang come get one of mine

**tuna**

WHERE IS MY POCKET SQUARE

**lets winwin**

im not letting you dress like an old man, old bitch) and attend donghyuck’s recital. twenty men yelling his name attracts everyone’s attention and they receive strange glances, but donghyuck’s grin is worth it. 

“mark -” he says first. to him, mark will always be first.

“donghyuck! you did so well, what the fuck,” mark says, taking a step forward. “jesus, your  _ voice _ .” 

mark lets himself take joy in watching donghyuck’s cheeks flush a little darker. “thanks mark, thank you all for -”

“FUCK YES my BEST FRIEND, MY best friend, just did THAT _ -”  _ jaemin. mark watches as jaemin shoves between yuta and yangyang, shoves the bouquet of flowers into jeno’s arms. 

renjun rolls his eyes as jaemin tackles donghyuck to the ground, and mark makes a note to tease and ask him about the fond smile he has as he looks at him. “there are children jaemin.”

“you have the vocal cords of an angel!” jaemin yells. “an  _ angel _ ! actually those hoes don’t have anything on you -”

and it’s enough for donghyuck to squeal and for jaemin and donghyuck to fall head first into a world that’s just their own, created by laughter and tight hugs. 

only once everyone is leaving and security is pushing them out because they’re the last ones in the theatre, does jaemin remember the bouquet and yank them from jeno. he gives him to donghyuck who grins and hugs jaemin once more. mark is reminded of the miniature sunflower inside of his suit pocket. 

they lag at the back of the group.

mark pulls out the sunflower - now slightly shriveled with a couple petals torn - and shoves it in donghyuck’s general direction. “it isn’t much. but i know how much you love sunflowers. but i’m also broke. so.”

“it’s beautiful.” his words are soft, and his fingers even more so when he takes the flower from marks fingertips. and for the first time in a while, mark is scared to look at donghyuck, scared about what he’ll see. 

but he ignores his uneasiness because it's harder to ignore donghyuck. mark tugs donghyuck into a hug, not really minding the sweat soaked hair at the nape of his neck. 

“i’m so proud of you.”

and donghyuck:

donghyuck is still drenched in sweat, but no longer sweating and shivering from the winter evening cold, slightly ruddy, and back to  _ beaming.  _

/

mark went out to drink with yukhei, ten, and kun, and technically yangyang, actually, but he didn’t drink. he’s the one who drives him home and dumps him on the porch and ditches him. but not really because he waits in the car, and waits even though mark can hear yukhei wailing and kun telling him to shut up (mark squints and can see kun cradling yukhei’s head in his lap).

donghyuck opens the door. mark tries his best not to stare at donghyuck’s exposed collarbone. 

“that’s my shirt.”

donghyuck ignores him. he pulls mark inside, waving to yangyang. the skin on his wrist burns, donghyuck’s grip like a bracelet. 

“you stink,” donghyuck tells him. “you smell like sweaty people and alc.”

mark pauses. “it's probably because of the sweaty people and the alc," he decides. donghyuck rolls his eyes, ignoring him as he walks to the pantry. he throws a water bottle at mark when he turns around and mark can hear him snickering as he fumbles with it. 

mark frowns, holding it back out. “open it.” donghyuck does. “please. oh. thank you.”

donghyuck’s lips part as mark’s do to drink from the bottle. and he remembers. he remembers. 

donghyuck tried to kiss him. why didn’t he kiss him? mark wants to kiss him.

“i wanna kiss you.” 

donghyuck stops. he wasn’t doing anything, just watching but something in him, it freezes. “what?” mark notices the red creeping up his neck. 

“hyuck, i wanna kiss you.”

donghyuck shakes his head. “no you don't. you’re drunk. drink your water. i’ll take you to bed.” 

mark can’t stop talking. donghyuck is here, exactly the person who seems to be occupying his thoughts a bit too much. they can talk. mark wants to talk. he can finally talk. “no, no listen. 'member,  _ remember -  _ you tried - tried to kiss me. remember? don’t you wan' t' kiss me - you do, you did. can’t i wanna, just this once? aren’t you gonna help me get dressed again, are you gonna touch me again? i know you want - you can. you  _ stopped,  _ why - why’d you stop?” he’s talking but he doesn’t know what to say, how to say it. everything’s coming out wrong and rushed and 

and then  _ he  _ remembers:

 

  1. we weren’t _supposed_ to talk about it.



donghyuck hugs himself, trying to make himself impossibly small. if he becomes any smaller, he’ll disappear, mark thinks vaguely. maybe that’s what he’s trying to do. disappear. they weren’t supposed to talk about it.

mark covers his mouth, as if that'll help shove his words back inside of the deep recesses of his mind, or preferably down to the pit of his stomach where they'll die, dissolved in the acid of his stomach. or live forever because donghyuck looks like  _ they've _ burned  _ him,  _ and back in seventh grade when he was first learning about ph and acids and bases mark learned that things of the same or lesser ph cannot be destroyed by each other. his words hurt, burned. “donghyuck."

donghyuck doesn’t look at him. “just go to bed mark.”

donghyuck doesn’t touch him, only watches as mark navigates the stairs, pitifully awkward and uncoordinated.

donghyuck doesn’t make it back to their room that night. 

/

**jaemin**

why is there a moping donghyuck on my couch

i need the couch for my new girl marathon

**mark**

jaem 

jaem i fucked up

**jaemin**

well shit

/

mark hears murmuring through the door. 

“i haven’t seen him in three days, donghyuck for five _ -” _

this is the longest mark has gone without donghyuck. even when he went to canada for a month they facetimed everyday and when he went to camp every summer, donghyuck progressed from calling him every night to coming with him the next year. he doesn’t really know what to do. 

there have been times where they don’t talk for a while but knowing that donghyuck is still  _ his  _ donghyuck and will be there when he needs him, when he wants him (he always wants him), it’s - different. it’s different because mark doesn’t know if they’ll be okay and well, donghyuck was never  _ really  _ his. 

“this is why getting a house with sophomores was not ideal -”

“they’re our  _ friends  _ -”

“ _ i was joking - _ ”

dongyoung - probably - knocks at the door. “mark?”

mark doesn’t answer. 

dongyoung, ever annoying, ever himself, knocks again. “are you dead?”

mark groans. “does it count if i want to be?”

silence, then: “no.”

“well then i guess not,” mark says. it’s not an  _ oh why yes please come join me in my oversized coffin  _ or  _ please come into my room honored guest  _ but dongyoung takes it as such, to no one’s surprise, and opens the door. jaehyun and taeyong hover behind him. 

“is this -”

dongyoung throws the door open and walks into the center of the room. jaehyun follows and taeyong follows last, the most decent and sane and respectful out of all of them. taeyong as always been his favorite hyung. “yes this is an intervention.”

mark pulls the covers back over his head. 

he feels betrayed when he realizes it’s taeyong who’s pulled the covers down. “mark, it smells like something died under those covers.” he no longer has a favorite.

“it’s probably because i’m under the covers and i died.”

“you  _ wish _ you died,” jaehyun corrects.

taeyong sits on the edge of his bed. “you need to talk to donghyuck.”

mark narrows his eyes. 

taeyong holds his hands up. “listen, we don’t know what happened but -”

mark doesn’t even know what happened, why the  _ fuck  _ he said what he said. he couldn’t say what he wanted or how he wanted and everything he kept in his mind under lock and key  _ spilled _ , and he didn’t know how to close the dam or keep his thoughts straight. 

he sounded so - so -  _ mean.  _ he sounded mean and mocking because mark  _ has _ been angry but not at donghyuck - never at donghyuck (at least for the important and big things that  _ matter _ ) - but at himself. because he never lets himself have what he wants and for pushing donghyuck away and for building a life for himself that left everyone expecting him to settle down with a pretty girl in a colonial home in the suburbs with a dog and two kids. because he expected  _ that _ for himself, not, not donghyuck. 

he wants donghyuck.

he fucked up.

he sounded mean and horrible and  _ just this once.  _ he said  _ just this once,  _ meaning _ i want it, i want you only tonight _ , but he wanted to say everyday of his life. just this once he was letting himself have him. want him? always. 

“all we know is that you and donghyuck have been moping for the past fifty years over shit that no one else knows and you either have to move on or get your ass in gear and  _ talk _ .”

jaehyun sighs. “you know he loves you, right?”

“he looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass.”

mark, not for the first time, gets it. mark, for the first time, accepts it. donghyuck... loves him, even if not in the same way. donghyuck loves him. he didn't really want donghyuck to love him, before. he didn't want to love donghyuck, before. 

taeyong nods. “and, you look at him that way too,” he says. “but, you know that.”

donghyuck loves him  _ too _ .

/

jeno opens the door and mark is slightly afraid he’s going to punch him. he wouldn’t exactly put it past him. 

jeno levels him with a look. “he’s my best friend.”

“and he’s mine,” mark responds simply. he is. donghyuck is his best friend and mark spent so long being scared when  _ donghyuck is his best friend  _ for a reason. 

“be kind.” jeno jabs his chest. “you - you were not kind. this is why no one lets you drink.”

mark smiles at him the best he can. “i know. i will.” jeno thinks his smile is kind of heartbreaking. 

there’s shuffling, and mark watches as jaemin and renjun walk down the hallway, whispering intensely, their conversation a game of tennis. jeno opens the door further. they’re holding hands. jaemin kisses renjun’s cheek. renjun kisses jeno’s cheek when he gets to the door. huh. 

they leave (jaemin leaves him with a slap on the back and an out of place peace sign, knowing that mark is going to tell him everything later. renjun smiles sympathetically and says, “good luck” with a miniscule nod. jeno smiles, sun shining eyes and all and says, “everything will go as it’s supposed to!”; mark is pretty sure jeno is just a human hallmark card.

they’re good for each other. all three). 

  
  


mark gets a weird sense of deja vu when he finds the donghyuck from after the party in the middle of jaemin’s living room. he’s swaddled himself in blankets and the only thing out of dissonance is that the first episode of memories of the alhambra plays on the screen. 

donghyuck's eyes flicker to the side. the blankets tighten around him. 

mark clears his throat. "can i sit?"

donghyuck doesn't respond for a moment, but he will. mark knows because donghyuck has never had trouble making decisions, but that doesn't mean mark knows what they will be. he nods.

he lets donghyuck choose when he wants to talk. "i'm sorry."

of all the things he expected him to say, that definitely never crossed his mind. 

donghyuck uncovers his head and shoulders, pushing the blankets down so that they pool around his waist. "im - i know what i did that day. at the party. it was wrong and i pushed myself onto you and that was wrong and horrible and im sorry. but the things you said, they - that was mean. you were really - " he sniffs, " - really mean. 

"but im still sorry," he says. "i thought we could just, like, continue on as friends even if you knew that i liked you." he shrinks against the back of the couch, "- and i guess we did, a little bit. i still tried to keep my distance because i didn't want to make you  _ more _ uncomfortable. but you - " he puts his head in his hands. he weeps softly. "god, eighth grade me did not imagine this going like this."

mark reaches to place his hand on donghyuck's shoulder but hesitates. he wonders where all his confidence went. he wonders how it had ever been easy to reach, to touch, instead of push.  _ practice makes perfect, i guess. _

he places his hand on donghyuck back, and grabs one of his wrists.  _ eighth grade.  _ "donghyuck," he says. 

donghyuck doesn't budge.

mark slides his hand from his shoulder to his other wrist and gently tugs his hands from his face.

donghyuck draws in a shuddery breath.

mark replaces donghyuck's hands with his own.

donghyuck's eyes flutter shut and he leans into marks touch. 

mark's voice is gravely, rough from emotion. "donghyuck."

donghyuck cracks one eye open. "stop just saying my name, it sounds patronizing."

mark kisses him. 

the logistics and statistics tell mark that it isn't a perfect kiss. just a little salty, a little slimy from snot, a little bit off the mark. but it makes mark's insides clench and melt in all the right ways and his heart does something in his chest that leaves him breathless. 

donghyuck curls up into him and he has to let himself be kissed for a beat as his head throbs from how overwhelmed his senses are. mark kisses him harder and donghyuck's lips part to the sopping velvet of his mouth and tongue. the blunt of his nails dig into mark's back and a body-wracking shiver crawls from his neck down his back.

but then.  _ oh _ , but then donghyuck pulls away with pink tinted cheeks and watery eyes and slick lips. he grasps mark's neck and the expanse of his back, one hand having slid under mark's arm and around, to trace over the lean muscles of his back. "wait - wait mark," his voice breaks. "i can't, i can't, if this is just - like you said - "

and mark presses, one, two, three more kisses against donghyuck's kiss-swollen lips. he can't say he doesn't understand because he's been dancing on the brink of heartbreak for the past months, and he can't even begin to understand seven years. seven years is a long time. 

"donghyuck, i know it's a shitty excuse but i was drunk. i can barely put what i want to say into words when i'm sober. and i know i sounded angry but it wasn't you, i was mad at myself. for a lot of things. but mostly for not wanting to love you. because i do. i know you just said that you like me, but  _ god _ . hyuck, i love you," mark says. "i'm sorry."

"you - i forgive you. i forgive you." he looks mark in the eyes. "i love you too."

he hugs mark. 

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh so anyway that was an unedited train wreck 
> 
> follow me on tumblr!  
> [skz](https://yangsjeongin.tumblr.com)  
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> 
> thank you guys for reading! and if you leave a comment and kudos ill love you forever uwu


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